


Bleed For You

by Mercale



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Rescue, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercale/pseuds/Mercale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tavros's crippling at Vriska's hands, someone had to help him. Karkat rushes to his aid, risking his own safety, and makes a promise he is fated to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmoSamyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=EmoSamyChan).



> First of what I hope to be several early Christmas presents to my followers. This story is meant to fulfill a request by EmoSamyChan of deviantArt. They wanted a story along the lines of flushed KarTav, and they wanted it to be slightly sad. And thus this story was created. It assumes a minor change in the canon events of Tavros's crippling.

It was denial, plain and simple, that drove Karkat's response when Tavros messaged him. Denial because accepting what Tavros was telling him was just too much to process. Sure, there was no doubt that Vriska was a cruel kind of troll, that she was willing to hurt other people just like all the fucking highbloods were, but she'd always seemed to draw a line when it came to the eleven trolls who dared to call themselves her friends in one way or another. Besides, Terezi was her FLARPing partner, and for all that she was a Scourge Sister, Terezi was good at keeping Vriska under a modicum of control. 

So the messages on his screen in the distinctive brown font were just a bit more than Karkat was really ready to accept. 

Because really, could even Vriska do something like what Tavros was implying to a troll as gentle as the brown blood? 

The problem was that Tavros wasn't the kind of troll to lie like this, to pull pranks like this, and the longer Karkat stared at the text, the more terrified he was that this was the truth. The terrible, unfathomable truth. Tavros was hurt and there was no one there to help him. His lusus wasn't capable of carrying him, or getting help, or doing something useful like Crabdad was capable of managing once in every double-eclipse. Which meant someone had to help Tavros. 

The obvious options, of course, were Aradia and Sollux. They were powerfully gifted, psychic trolls capable of some pretty extreme telekinesis, though Aradia wasn't known to use hers very often. But Sollux was too far away and lacked any real skill with healthrepair techniques, and Karkat wasn't quite sure if Aradia was strong enough to lift Tavros with her powers.

Which meant someone else had to be there to help. Someone who could help do some emergency healthrepair in hopes of repairing whatever ills Vriska had dealt—otherwise Tavros wouldn't survive to ascension. Someone who could help get his friend up to the top of this cliff Vriska had jumped him off of. Someone like Karkat. 

There was a chance that there wasn't going to be a lot of time to work, Karkat realized that. So instead of trying to work with his fetch modus, he just pulled out an old backpack his lusus had gotten him before he was old enough to warrant a modus. Trying to hack open his modus cards would waste precious time, so instead Karkat packed away set of ropes, rolls of strong bandages, some blankets, and a few water bottles into his backpack, strapped it closed and slung it over his shoulders. The next issue was how to get to Tavros as fast as possible. While he wasn't exactly living on the other side of Alternia from his friend, Tavros's hive was quite a distance from the hive ring where Karkat lived, and far beyond the outer limits of where he'd traveled before. That didn't mean he didn't know where it was, though. There had been a few packages Karkat had sent his friend as wriggling day gifts, so he had that sorted out, but getting there...

The answer came suddenly as Karkat threw himself down the stairs and through the kitchen, hoping to get out before Crabdad noticed. His lusus was overly protective, understandable all things considered, but that didn't mean Karkat wanted to be held back now. Yet, even as Crabdad jumped out at him, screeing in confusion and rage, Karkat smiled. Here was his ride. 

“I'm going to Tavros's hive.”

“SCREEEEE!” 

“You can't stop me,” Karkat shouted back. “He's hurt and he needs help.”

“Screeee.”

“His lusus is a fairybull!”

“Screeeeee?”

“He fell off a cliff. How do you expect a fairybull to help him?”

“Screeeee.”

“Well if you're so concerned about me, then come with me.”

“SCREEE!?”

“You heard me, you fucking roe for pan. When we get back I'll spend some of my savings to get you a full chilled roe cube dinner. How about that? All you have to do is help me.”

“Screeeeee...”

“I'm going with or without your fucking ass.”

“SCREEE!”

And with that they were on their way, Karkat perched carefully on his lusus's shoulders as Crabdad ran through the lawns and over the plains of Alternia with all haste. As much as he hated to admit it, Karkat was more than happy to have his lusus along. Not only would Crabdad help him get to Tavros fast, but if Karkat had problems trying to get his friend up the cliff, Crabdad had the strength to help with it. 

Nervous, but unwilling to spend his whole trip there panicking, Karkat closed his eyes, leaned his head against that of his lusus, and let sleep overcome him.

The nap didn't last long, or at least didn't feel like it did. It almost seemed like as soon as he closed his eyes, his lusus had come to a stop. Karkat opened his eyes and wanted to scream at his lusus for failing him, only to look around and see that their surroundings were very different. There was little to no other buildings around them, only hills and plains, and a hive with stables that he recognized from a picture Tavros had once sent him. And there, before them, the world seemed to drop off into the sky.

Karkat slid down his lusus's back, and after shooshing the asshole before readjusting his backpack and moving for the end of the world. Crabdad wasn't exactly happy to see him moving for the edge of the cliff, but Karkat ignored that, making his way slowly closer so he could see what was going on. Soon enough he was at the edge, kneeling there and peering over to see if he couldn't...

He didn't even have to try looking for Tavros. The broken body of his friend was quite visible, lying on the green tinted sand of the rather extensive beach at the base of the cliffs. So it was true, Vriska really had done it. With a few rather colorful curses, even for Karkat, he called his lusus over to his side. It took a few moments, but he finally got Crabdad to understand the importance of getting a good grip on a rock protrusion, and letting Karkat tie a rope around his waist. There really weren't many other choices for how to anchor the rope, and so relying on his lusus was pretty much all Karkat had. Carefully, deliberately—another few minutes to make sure things were secure could prove more valuable than rushing to the rescue—Karkat tied not one, but two ropes around his lusus, then made sure they were knotted well enough not to come undone. Another two minutes, precious minutes that could matter to Tavros, were spent making his lusus understand that when he gave three tugs to both ropes together, Crabdad was supposed to start pulling in the ropes, very slowly and carefully. Then, with a whispered prayer to whatever gods might exist out there, Karkat wrapped one of the ropes around his own waist, threw the other over the edge, and returned to the edge of the cliff.

Climbing had never really been something Karkat had done. There weren't many options for it back around his hivering, few native plants growing in the area because of sweeps and sweeps of the place being repeatedly cleared for new hives. Nor was he near any cliffs himself. And, more than anything, falling and getting hurt would ruin a lot of time spent trying to hide his blood color from the world. And now here he was, looking over the edge of a cliff, seriously thinking about climbing down. Already he could see how sharp the rocks were. It didn't take someone like Sollux to realize that he wasn't getting down there and back up without a few cuts. Not that Tavros was going to be in the physical condition to cull him if he found out, or that he would be tempted to if he could, but one person kept a secret way better than two. 

It was something he was willing to risk, and Karkat knew it. Maybe he hadn't been sure of it before, but now that he was lowering his legs over the edge, feeling around for a foothold, he knew without a doubt. Tavros's safety was far more important than his own. Sure, he didn't deserve his mutation, or at least Karkat was pretty sure he didn't, but Tavros really didn't deserve what Vriska had done to him. Didn't deserve the price that had to be paid for it. And Karkat was certain that prices would be paid. Probably too many of them, because that was just how their fucked up world dealt with things. 

There, a foothold. A deep breath and the next leg goes over, searches, finds, anchors. At last he lets go of his death-grip on the grass of the cliff, and instead reaches to get a good grip of the edge before lowering a foot once again.

For a while that's all Karkat's world is. Fingers anchor themselves in a crack, feet start to search for another further down. Feet find a stable surface, test it twice, commit to it and start the search for the next grip. Grit teeth when a hand slips, when flesh parts before sharp corners and edges of stone. Every now and then pause long enough to wipe first one hand then the other against his shirt to clean away as much blood as possible. Already his shirt was sticky from the drying blood, clinging to his chest in ways that Karkat didn't even want to begin to consider. All he thought about was reaching, steadying, lowering, progressing hand by hand and foot by foot down the face of the cliff.

It felt like minutes, hours, sweeps, before his foot didn't scrabble against more stone, but settled into sand. Still, he didn't let up then, carefully feeling his way down until both feet were on the ground, until he felt safe enough to pull his feet from the rock face, until he could bring himself to look down and see the relatively stable shore under him. Sighing, Karkat took a step back, considered the slack remaining in the rope with satisfaction, and started to untie himself. There would be enough, in both this rope and the other, to deal with Tavros. That was all he needed. It was what was important. That and...

Released from the grip of the rope Karkat turned and rushed for the body he knew was there. Tavros was still sprawled, utterly still, just as he had been when Karkat had been at the top of the cliff. But here, closer, he looked far worse. His boy-skylark outfit was torn and tattered—Tavros would be sad to learn that later, it had taken Kanaya months to make it for him—but that was the least of the issues. The brownblood's legs were twisted at weird angles, both those and his arms cut up from the fall, and the cuts were already scabbing over. It had taken far too long for Karkat to get here, and he hated that knowledge, but it was something he had to accept. There had been no way to rush any faster than he had without risking himself, and even with how late he was he was still here hours before either of their psionic friends would arrive. 

“Tavros,” Karkat called softly as he came to kneel beside his friend. There was no response from the troll, though his lusus, previously curled up and sleeping at his side, quickly woke and leapt into the air to hover around Karkat's head in what could only be described as a tizzy. 

“I'm here to help,” Karkat hissed at the frantic lusus, waving his hands in front of his face to keep the fairybull from flying at his face. Not the greatest choice he realized a moment later. Something, likely the sight of the bright red blood oozing from his cut hands, sent the lusus into a far greater rage, and Tinkerbull went from worried to violent. 

Tinkerbull hovered away for a moment, before turning in the air with all the agility of a fish in the water, and darted at Karkat, head down and horns ready to attack. Not that it was much of a threat. Fairybulls weren't exactly the most physically powerful of lusus, and after sweeps of strifing with his own lusus, Karkat was pretty sure he could dodge the attack. That didn't make the situation any better. Tavros would need his lusus now, more than ever, and if Tinkerbull managed to hurt him, Crabdad might take some serious offense when they got to the top of the cliff. A one-sided fight between lusus was hardly something Karkat really wanted to be dealing with, not with Tavros hurt. 

“Tavros, wake up,” Karkat growled, dodging out of the way of the fairybull's charge. “Come on, I need you to get control on your lusus!”

“Karkat?” Tavros's voice croaked out, and immediately Tinkerbull was landing on the chest of his ward, mournfully lowing at Tavros. 

“I'm here,” Karkat confirmed, settling down at Tavros's side once more, slinging the backpack from his shoulders. “Fuck, she really did it, didn't she?”

“When did you...?”

“Don't waste energy on talking. Just make sure your lusus doesn't attack me while I'm working.”

“Tinkerbull? He wouldn't... harm a...”

No, he probably wouldn't, but Karkat wasn't whatever it was that Tavros was going to use as an example. He was a mutant, meant to be culled. He'd been lucky to end up under the guardianship of a lusus who hadn't seemed to know better. Well, that wasn't true because Crabdad made sure that Karkat had understood to hide his blood, so he knew, he cared, and he tried to protect Karkat. 

“That isn't important. Just do what I'm telling you and I'll get you to safety, okay?”

“Karkat...”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Karkat just grunted in response, not willing, not able to say that he hadn't been able to stay away. Wouldn't have been able to stay away. Tavros had been hurt, and he had come running.

Almost made him wonder what that meant.

No, there wasn't time for that either. Karkat shook off the thought and started to pull things out of his bag. First came some lengths of bandages, which had been intended to deal with cuts and such, but those didn't seem to be important now that Karkat was looking at the legs. What was he going to do about that? He had to have Tavros rather stable to get his lusus to pull him up, and do it safely. And if the legs were broken...

“I need to do something about your legs. Is there any driftwood around here?”

“What?” 

“I need to bind up your legs. Do you get driftwood around here?”

“Uh... yeah, but... What about my legs?”

All Karkat could do was stare at Tavros. Didn't he realize that they were... But no, he didn't. Hadn't Tavros said something like that over Trollian? About his legs feeling invisible? What did that mean? Oh gog, he was hurt, and didn't even know how badly. This was bad. This was really, really bad. 

“Can you feel this?” Karkat asked, carefully laying a hand on Tavros's knee. 

“Feel what?”

“Fuck. I'm going to kill her. No, scratch that. Death is too good for her. I'm going to...”

“I can't... feel my legs. Karkat, I can't feel my legs.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“It'll pass,” he lied, not even sounding like he believed the words himself. Still, when he said it he rose and started down the beach. He couldn't handle explaining it right now. Couldn't handle the idea of it. Paralysis. That had to be what was happening. If the drones ever found out, and they would, Tavros would be culled. There was no coming back from something like this. What was he going to do? What were they going to do?

For now, Karkat resolved, he was going to just look for some wood. Paralyzed or not, stabilizing Tavros's legs before lifting him was vital. So he walked along the green-tinted sands for a while, searching and searching until he found several lengths of smooth, polished wood that would suffice for what had to be done. Then, arms loaded, he returned to the side of his friend. Tavros had fallen back asleep, probably for the best, by the time Karkat dropped his collected sticks. Then, after taking a moment to wrap his own bleeding hands to keep any more of his vile blood from Tavros's clothes—apparently the red settled into the green and looked brown, but he couldn't risk Tavros getting hurt because of his mutation—Karkat set to slowly straightening out Tavros's legs. As he worked his fingers slowly pressed into the skin, searching for damage, for some sign of what other than paralysis could explain Tavros's lack of sensation. But he didn't know enough, and the examination as he worked with the legs found nothing. At last they were as straight as Karkat could manage, and he set to splinting them between the sticks and the rest of the rolls of bandages he'd brought. 

It was only as Karkat anchored the last length of cloth around the second makeshift splint that Tavros awoke once more, and looked up at Karkat with confusion. 

“Karkat? What are you...?”

“You fell,” Karkat quickly offered. “I came to help. You thirsty?”

“Parched.”

A water bottle came out, and worried for just how far the lack of sensation went, Karkat started to open it. Tavros lifted a hand for the bottle, and there as little more that Karkat could do than sigh in relief. Yet soon enough he was watching in pity as the other troll tried to sit up enough to drink. Apparently his arms weren't strong enough to deal with his weight right now, and Karkat found himself wrapping an arm around the other troll's back and helping him to sit up so he could drink. Half the bottle disappeared down Tavros's protein chute before he lowered the bottle and looked around.

“So it wasn't... uh, a dream?”

Karkat shook his head, and carefully refrained from biting his lip over the diluted brown tears that started to fill Tavros's eyes. He wanted to cry too, wanted to just mourn what had been done to him, but he couldn't. There was already too much evidence here that could get him culled, and the last thing he could do was risk another sign. Tavros might do anything to survive after this, even giving up a mutant if it could save himself from being culled. 

“No.”

“I can't... Karkat I can't feel my legs.”

As Tavros wept, Karkat held him close. Let the brown-blood cry into his bloody shirt. 

And with his arms wrapped tightly around his friend, he swore to himself that Vriska would pay. That she would understand, someday, just what she'd done. How she'd hurt Tavros, hurt Karkat by hurting Tavros. She would pay. And Karkat would never let her hurt Tavros again. He swore it. 

No one would ever hurt Tavros like this again. No one.

It was a promise Present Karkat swore to live by. And one that Future Karkat would mourn over breaking.


End file.
